Today someone I love told me they would rather die.
But instead I fall silent... some words from a children's story
that I read to my daughter tonight that has not left me.
Imagine you are soft
and have no bones
inside you.
Imagine you are grey,
the color of smoke.
You are shrinking.
Smaller
smaller
and
smaller
Imagine you have no arms
and legs
Imagine you cannot
walk or run.
Instead you glide
and make your own
smooth sticky path to ride on.
It is easy to move this way
and it feels cool and good.
You have small black eyes
that rest on top of feelers
One eye sees the brightness above the other
curls around the leaf.
Now you see the darkness there.
Your feeler touches
something in the dark,
something alive.
You tuck your eye
and hide it from danger.
When you feel safe your
eye glides up, up
to see the world again.
You are soft and small and slow
gliding up and down.
On your back lies a light, curled
It is a part of you and it grows as you grow.
Whenever you want to rest
you have a place to go.
Inside your head...
Then you draw your head and soft
grey body inside your shell
and sleep.
I believe when faced with a problem there is always an opportunity to
get creative and get past it. Today was hard.
But like the snail we will get there, not now, but eventually.
Now as we sleep in our safe shells I have faith we will heal in the morning.
 |
| all pictures above were taken in Puerto Rico 2 years ago |
Hagamos como el caracol... reparar nuestra concha nosotros mismos.. renovarnos desde dentro...
ReplyDeletecurar nuestras heridas, y hacernos más fuertes.
Estoy totalmente segura de que lo hará... de que todo lo malo pasará.
El tiempo y la paciencia, así como el amor de su familia hará que se reconstruya mucho más fuerte.
Poco más puedo hacer que estar aquí.. para cuando necesites hablar, para leer lo que escribas.. incondicionalmente.
Besos
Gracias Isa, llego a mi corazón.
DeleteGracias por esto y lo demás.
Hermana de lejos pero siempre cerca.
♥siempre
DeleteHay que aprender que en esta vida somos como el caracol que....
ReplyDeleteEn su moroso edén de baba
proclama
que andar por este mundo
significa
ir dejando
pedazos de uno miso
en el viaje.
José Emilio Pacheco.
La vida es así, uno va dejando rastro, a veces duele a veces es placentero, pero hay que saber que mañana será otro día. Suerte!
Gracias por esto. Que lindo el poema.
DeleteSabes que me gusto mucho.
A lovely sentiment and will keep close to my heart.
Thanks again.
Oh that's so hard. And so painful. But yes, be snail. Be more snail. xo
ReplyDeleteThanks Alison! I find a lot of healing and truth in children books. That one really spoke to me.
DeleteThat must be very hard to hear. I hope your loved one finds the strength they need to get through whatever they are facing.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind words. It is a process of healing and finding ways to cope.
DeleteDoing everything possible for many good things to come.
What a horrible day. I do hope that the morning brought goodness.
ReplyDelete